


Reasons to Stay

by moodymarshmallow



Series: We Wouldn't Be Elves, Otherwise. [1]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 04:28:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodymarshmallow/pseuds/moodymarshmallow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theron Mahariel and Emanuel Surana, grey wardens, meet in Kirkwall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reasons to Stay

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first installment of the AU adventures of Grey Wardens Emanuel Surana, who belongs to Jabberart of Tumblr, and Theron Mahariel, who belongs to me.

Every bar has an aroma. You can usually tell the quality of the beer on tap by this scent, but it also gives you a good hint at the type of patron you’re going to find inside. Ferelden bars smell like dog; no matter where in the kingdom they’re located, or how high-end they claim to be, you always get a faint whiff of mabari. 

The Hanged Man? 

Well. Theron wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know what that odor was. 

But it was a taproom, and if Theron Mahariel was going to have to spend time in Kirkwall, he might as well do it drunk. The wardens would prefer if he didn’t, most likely, but really; this city was exactly the type of place that Theron wanted to avoid. There was so much stone and iron; the last time he’d felt this claustrophobic he’d killed to get away from that dread. He couldn’t do that this time, so he settled for getting piss-drunk on terrible beer.

“You’re a Dalish!”

Theron looked up. Usually, when someone pointed out the fact that he was an elf there were more slurs, and it wasn’t generally other elves pointing it out. Theron gazed hazily at the young blond elf, eyeing the blue tattooing on his face. Not vallaslin, so not another Dalish, which explained the awe in his voice. Theron would have ignored him, but he was wearing the blue and white of a Grey Warden, which meant he was technically a comrade. He gestured to the chair across from him and watched the elf sit quickly, gawking at him with large, blue eyes.

“I am. You’re not, I take it.” Theron put his flagon to his lips; by the void, the beer here was rank. 

“Oh no! I’m from the Ferelden circle, and before that I was in the Denerim alienage. Are you Fereldsn? You don’t sound like you’re from Orlais, but it’s strange that I’ve never met you before if you’re part of the Ferelden wardens...oh! My name is Emanuel!” The elf, who somehow managed to say all of that without taking a breath, offered Theron a hand to shake. Theron took another pull from his flagon before doing so. He felt that he’d need it. 

“I’m from Ferelden, yes, and my name is Theron. I came here with my clan rather than the rest of the wardens. I joined up with them at Sundermount.” Theron watched Emanuel studying him, wondering if he should just start talking about the vallaslin or wait for him to ask. He was obviously fascinated. A barmaid passed them, and Theron flagged her down, ordering a flagon for both of them.

 

“I don’t really drink all that much and it’s kind of early in the day...” Emanuel said, squirming a little bit in his seat. “You have a lot of tattoos. That means you’ve had a lot of significant events in your life, right? Cause, I got mine after the Joining, but I was thinking that I should probably get more, since it’s my first time out of Ferelden.” He rocked back in his chair, looking expectantly at Theron for an answer. Theron closed his eyes and took a deep breath before answering. 

“My vallaslin was done in two steps; once when I came of age, once when my lover died.” Theron took the flagon from the barmaid as she returned and put it to his lips. Emanuel’s hands flew to his mouth and he clamped them there, his eyes wide and sad. 

“I am so, so, so, sorry.” 

“It was a long time ago.” Theron shrugged slightly.

“But I asked. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Emanuel picked up his flagon in both hands and took a drink. “Oh, that’s awful.” He sat it down again and wrinkled his nose at it, almost as if he didn’t trust it anymore.

“Drink it quickly and it’s not so bad,” Theron said with a little smile as Emanuel picked up the mug, grimaced at it, and downed it in one gulp. A flush rose on Emanuel’s cheeks as he put the mug down. “New to the wardens?” 

“Sort of. You?” 

“Sort of.” Theron wasn’t sure if the ale had calmed Emanuel down or just scrambled his thoughts. Either way, it made him speak more slowly, and that was a small blessing. “Were you conscripted or did you join freely?” 

“A little of both.” Emanuel grinned toothily. “I fought beside the Hero of Ferelden against the Archdemon; afterwards, I was offered a chance to join.”

“Same here, actually.” Theron tipped the barmaid as she came by to clear away Emanuel’s flagon. “Small world.”

“It’s really strange that I’ve never seen you before though!” 

“I’m fairly forgettable,” Theron said with a self-deprecating grin. 

“You are not forgettable! You are really, really pretty! Your hair is almost the exact same red as your tattoos! And your eyes are all pale and gold and--” Emanuel stopped mid sentence and made an awkward face. “Did I just call you pretty?” Theron laughed. 

“I don’t think that you can rightly blame that on the ale, yet.” Theron smiled at the way the tips of Emanuel’s ears went red. Well. Maybe the day wasn’t a waste. “So, you’re a mage? Are you the ‘mends wounds’ or ‘sets things on fire type’?” 

“Both! But mostly the fire part.” Emanuel drummed his long fingers on the table, still looking at Theron with an earnest, excitable smile. “What about you? I did a lot of reading about the Dalish when I was still in the circle, and I know that your people have a lot of apostate mages. Do you cast spells too?” 

“I’m a hunter and a scout, better with a bow than anyone else in my clan.” Theron rested an elbow on the table, leaning his head against his fist. Emanuel was a little tiring, but his enthusiasm was awfully adorable. Listening to stories about the perils of learning magic was preferable than rejoining the wardens to listen to them groan about the darkspawn and the taint, so Theron bought them another round and encouraged him to continue.   
“...and that’s when I got the mabari!” Emanuel said with a smile, then hiccupped, putting a hand over his mouth and giggling. “D’you ever have a dog?”

“I think you might have had enough to drink.” Theron reached across the table and grabbed Emanuel’s mug, laughing softly when the mage grabbed his wrist with both hands to keep him from taking it. 

“You’re just trying to steal my ale!” Emanuel laughed, tugging at Theron’s wrist. Theron let the flagon go, but Emanuel’s momentum caused it to tip into his lap. He tried to get up, but only made it halfway, a wave of dizziness planting him into his wet seat. “Okay. Maybe I’ve had enough.”

“You can’t stand, can you?” With amusement written on his face, Theron pushed his chair back and got up, rounding the table to where Emanuel was looking red-cheeked and sheepish. Emanuel smiled up at him and shook his head, giggling. “Your Joining must have been interesting.” Smirking, Theron leaned over and grabbed Emanuel by the arm, swinging it around his shoulders and helping the tipsy mage to his feet. 

“I didn’t throw up!” Emanuel proclaimed proudly, wrapping both arms around Theron’s neck for balance. “Oh…I’m getting beer on you.”

“The wardens are going to love that I’m bringing you back drunk, aren’t they?” Theron began to walk Emanuel out of the Hanged Man, doing his best to maneuver him around the tables without knocking anything over. About halfway to the door he got caught up on a chair and stopped.

“You really are pretty.” Emanuel giggled slightly as he touched Theron’s cheek, pushing his fingers carelessly against the lines of the vallaslin. “Verrrrrrry pretty.” 

“I’m going to remind you that you said that when you’re sober,” Theron said as he disentangled them from the chair. “And you’re going to be embarrassed at yourself.”

“Nope. M’not going to be embarrassed.”

Theron finally dragged him out the Hanged Man and across the city to where the Wardens were staying. He tried to let Emanuel stand on his own, but the mage wouldn’t let him go. “They’re going to be wondering where you went.” 

“You’re a warden too!”

“I don’t stay here,” Theron said with a smile, reaching up to detach Emanuel’s arms from his neck.

“You should! Everyone’s so nice and, and, and if you stayed we could talk more!” Emanuel said, pouting slightly as Theron took a step back from him. “Okay. Fine. But come back tomorrow!”

“You are going to be tremendously hung-over tomorrow.” As Theron tried to leave, Emanuel grabbed his arm. When he turned, Emanuel wrapped him in a tight bear hug and buried his face into Theron’s neck.

“You’ll come back, right?” Emanuel asked, once he pulled away. He pouted at Theron until he nodded. “Okay, good!” Emanuel let him go and waved a bit, stumbling towards the door of the compound. Theron watched for a moment, mostly to ensure that he didn’t trip over his own robes on the way in. As the door closed behind Emanuel, Theron began to laugh. He laughed more genuinely than he remembered doing in years.

Maybe he couldn’t kill to get out of Kirkwall, but maybe there were reasons to stay.


End file.
